


Clockwork

by an_abounding_sentiment



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Anatole the pansexual out to the rescue, F/F, F/M, Helene is gay and v v confused, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Short One Shot, i wrote this in like fifteen minutes please forgive me if this is trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_abounding_sentiment/pseuds/an_abounding_sentiment
Summary: Helene has always known everything. From rumors to values, this is the first time Helene realizes she didn't know something about herself.
Relationships: Fyodor "Fedya" Ivanovich Dolokhov/Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Clockwork

**Author's Note:**

> In lieu of this quarantine, I just wanted to write something. I didn't really edit this or anything, and it started as one thing and quickly moved to another. I just kind of shot it out here. Thanks for reading friends! :) Stay sane and stay safe!

Helene’s day was like clockwork: every minute was planned meticulously and that was just how things ended up being; there were rarely any exceptions, and if there were Helene’s number one fault was a failure to accommodate. She could take rumors and lies because that was what it was: she took them and moved on, or would perhaps wonder how much she wanted to exploit those words. But adaptation was never Helene’s strong suit. Changes weren’t exactly welcome in her world, from schedule changes to something inside herself, the brunette didn’t account for those in her day, and it had a strong tendency to show. Today, it came in the form of sitting down for a grand total of five seconds in the past four hours.

Anatole could hear her boots scuffing along the flooring, back and forth past his door, up and down the stairs, in and out of rooms. She didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop picking stuff up and moving it, then placing it back where it started. The blonde almost found it funny when this happens; he most likely would have, too, if he hadn’t been trying to do homework to the sound of insistent, endless noises accompanied by Helene’s, while extremely melodic and scarily in tune, humming. She’d been doing this since the moment they got home, and the sun was almost setting. That certainly wasn’t a planned endeavor, either.

“Sister, I love you, but can you do that in the basement or something?” He peeked his head out of his bedroom door to see Helene with some vase he completely forgot existed normally in their living room. Why she brought it all the way upstairs he didn’t want to know. She didn’t stop moving; her feet did, but her free hand not holding onto the pottery danced over the bindings of books collecting dust in the shelves between both of their bedrooms, engraved into the walls.

“Right, yeah,” It was clear the brunette was preoccupied, as if these books neither of them had ever even spared a glance at was more interesting than what he had to say. Anatole sighed heavily, using his foot to kick the door backwards and further into his room so he could peer deeper down the hallway, back leaning against the hinges of his door.

His head was tilted as he scoffed. “Have you found anything good to read yet?” His remark was sarcastic and layered in it deeply enough she picked up her head to look at him, Finally, she stilled. “What’s got you all weird and annoying?”

“I realized something,” Helene answered in equal parts stiff and vague. Her fingers pinched the rim of the vase now secured from the bottom with her palm. Brown eyes ran over it, mouth pushed to one side of her face, picking out any stains or old speck of dirt. Or maybe mold. She didn’t know, but put a considerable energy into trying to decide which it was until Anatole snapped his fingers, jolting her out of her daze once again. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Anatole’s face dropped somewhat. He knew his sister well enough to tell that was the face of his sister when she was completely and utterly lost.

“Which is what?” He asked, voice drawn out.

“Anatole I think I’m gay,” She told him slowly, almost fearfully, as if her blatantly pansexual brother was going to be horrified. The blonde just arched a brow, waiting for the part that was supposed to shock him.

“Okay, and…?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?” Helene asked unsteadily, air quoted the final word with wide eyes. Anatole chuckled softly. Oh, bless his sister’s soul.

“Was I supposed to be horrified?” He questioned, laughing softly.

“I don’t know,” Helene answered after a moment. “Are you?”

“Let me get this straight,” Anatole pushed off the door frame, striding towards her. “You are freaking out over _this?_ Not, like, you killed a guy or something?” The blonde continued to press, staring at her wide-eyes and trying not to laugh. “You thought I, who just planned a date with my _boyfriend_ for this weekend, was going to-really, Helene?” The brunette seemed to take a moment to just stare at him as if she didn’t understand a word of what he just told her. As if she hadn’t been the one who helped him pick out flowers for Fedya literally the week prior. “Really?”

“I mean, it’s dif-“

“Shut up,” Anatole remarked with a rolling of his eyes, walking until he was within touching distance, taking the vase from her hands, “Now stop worrying and let’s discuss getting rid of Pierre, hm?” Anatole had never said it, but he didn’t need to: he’d been waiting for this moment for almost two years. “I literally have a note in my phone for this already,” He told her with a light smile, tugging her by the sleeve down towards the stairwell.


End file.
